


Je Ne Regrette Rien

by DefineNormal



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefineNormal/pseuds/DefineNormal
Summary: A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person. Cobert Valentine Smut Exchange! *REPOST from FF.net - 2/13/13*
Relationships: Cora Crawley/Robert Crawley
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

_A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person._

As a young girl, it was common for Cora to daydream about her wedding. She was in love with the idea of being in love, with white dresses and diadems and long veils. She waited breathlessly for that feeling in her stomach, the rush of heat, the racing of her heart.

She was only seventeen when her mother sat her down and explained to her what would happen - that her rearing had not been to wed her to a local boy and force her to live in obscurity. She was destined for greater things - a bigger life - than even Cincinatti could give.

Ever obedient, Cora accepted the fate her mother laid out for her because she had been trained to since birth. She let slip away the ideals of love and the hopes for a passionate future.

She set sail on a steamer not long after her nineteenth birthday, headed not towards love but towards marriage.

* * *

There were very few expectations Cora held about marriage. What she knew came from her mother, and that was precious little. She was very ill-prepared for the realities of physical love, although not particularly frightened as her friends had been. Her mother explained to her that it would be a duty Cora was unlikely to enjoy at first, but that things would improve. Probably. Martha's own expression became distant and wistful as she silently recalled the early days of her union with Isidore.

So when Robert led Cora up to her bedchamber after the wedding, she was trembling with anticipation.

What followed was a blur that offered something of a disappointment. The act itself may have left much to be desired, or at the very least was entirely overrated, but her new husband's behavior leading up to it were forever ingrained in her mind and would give the entire night a rosy hue that Cora would remember fondly all her days.

Robert, obviously suffering from nerves of his own, was tentative. He pressed his lips gently to hers, traced them along column of her throat, and dipped into the hollow between her breasts. He did not remove the filmy material of her nightdress, but explored through the slippery fabric as though afraid to touch her skin bare. His fingers drew lazy patterns over her body as he charted her topography with his fingertips, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Her breath was shuddering when he pressed his fingers to her core to assure himself she was ready.

"I don't want to hurt you," He whispered against her hair, and she knew it to be true in all things. There simply wasn't an unkind bone in his body, and whatever the reasons for their union he wished to cause the least amount of pain, both physically and emotionally.

"I trust you," She had answered back, and he flinched, the heavy press of his manhood brushing against her thigh. When he did finally enter her, she couldn't quite suppress a slight whimper and he stilled, waiting for her to adjust. When she nodded, not entirely convincingly, he began to move.

It was over in moments, his weight pressing her into the down mattress and his breath gusting in her ear. He apologized hurriedly, avoiding the blood on the sheets, his skin paling as he realized exactly what he'd done. Cora tried to assuage him, but it seemed her concern was the last thing he wanted. With a muffled apology, and a kiss to her forehead, he nearly ran through the connecting door to his dressing room.

After that, that there hadn't been much time for anything else. Readying the couple for their Honeymoon was chaotic and it seemed to Cora that Robert took refuge in the bustle. Each night that passed without another attempt made the entire affair even more daunting.

In spite of the fact that she was fond of Robert - possibly even loved him - she had no illusions about his interest. The night they met he looked at her in her finery and saw, not a young woman, but the safety of his beloved Estate. What she was supposed to see in him was the legitimization of her parents' money. What she actually saw, however, was a dashing young man with a lovely smile who was respectful and kind. Unlike so many of his friends who were in a similar state of need for American cash, Robert at least attempted to make Cora feel comfortable and appreciated for more than her dowry. That he made an effort at all was attractive to her, and she allowed herself to be seduced by him.

She had (perhaps foolishly) thought that they would get through the period of adjustment together. She was willing to learn and hoped at least for kind fondness from her husband that would, maybe, morph into something more substantial over time. If nothing else, she believed they could be a functional partnership.

What she had forgotten to take into account was attraction, and the belated realization that she might not be exciting to him in that way. She was well aware that her secondary purpose was to provide a son for the Crawley family and had hoped her inexperience wouldn't be too much of a deterrent for her husband. Except he seemed no more interested in bedding her again than shaving his eyebrows. It wasn't as though she was overly keen to repeat that first night, all things considered. But it was a blow to her moderate self-esteem to think he did not find her alluring enough to try.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off on a Honeymoon. Robert is guilty. Cora is clueless. Paris is just the ticket. Right? ANYWAY. This chapter is most definitely M for sexytimes and A for awkward.

Robert was, indeed, glad of the distraction of their honeymoon preparations although not for the reasons Cora assumed. He was ashamed of their first night together; he'd intended to be so suave. They didn't speak of the business agreement that their marriage essentially was, but he saw in her keen gaze that she understood and accepted it. He wanted to at least be marginally satisfying to his wife, but on their first night he found himself in such a state of heightened arousal that the sight of her in her nightgown had almost caused him to embarrass himself right then and there. All his plans of seduction dissolved when he climbed in beside her. Her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, a cascade of chestnut threaded through with the faint hint of perfume. Her expression was sweet and timid, blue eyes so full of trust. When their lips touched he had been forced to twist his fingers into the bedclothes for some control and when her fingers brushed his bare chest, nearly all was lost.

He slipped inside of her slowly, at least having enough self control not to rush and to give her time to adjust. His palm cupped her thigh around his hip as he thrust once, twice...she sighed and he felt her body clench around him. Sadly, pitifully, that was all he had. One more thrust, deeper this time, and he found himself spent and panting against her hair. His skin burned with a flush of both release and embarrassment. When he reared back to look in her face, she wore a small smile and an expression that questioned "is that all?" He could hardly get back to his room fast enough, purposely avoiding the crimson evidence of their coupling. He had taken something from Cora, something she would never get back. And he hadn't been able to make it last. He knew there was little chance of it being overwhelmingly pleasant for her, but he'd hoped at least...

It didn't matter. Done was done. Guilt and fear, however, had him concerned about a repeat performance.

They were headed to Paris for their Honeymoon and, as luck would have it, they would be there over the St. Valentine holiday. It had seemed such a stroke of fortune that the holiday would fall on their trip, a chance to perhaps become closer, or at the very least work out some logistics of their match. Now, as things stood, it seemed a very bad idea indeed. For Robert was entranced by the body of his new wife, guilty over his lack of genuine emotion for her, and embarrassed that he hadn't even managed a moderate performance on their wedding night. Robert thought of the nightgown he had purchased for Cora, intended as a honeymoon gift. Rosamund had fetched it for him from London and brought it to the house before the wedding, giving her brother a knowing smirk and making a few tactless remarks about the honeymoon. It was packed away in his belongings, carefully wrapped by the seamstress who had created it. He had imagined how Cora would look in the folds of silk and lace, the way it would drape below her breasts and contrast with her skin. It had seemed such a good idea. Now, thoughts of her in the nightgown were all he could imagine and he was distracted almost to a fault. His desire warred with guilt, keeping him especially distracted in the time leading up to their departure.

His thoughts kept him silent on the carriage ride to the station. Cora sat contentedly beside him, rosy-cheeked at the promise of an adventure. She snuck sideways glances his direction, averting her eyes every time he looked her way. Her chin would tuck and her lashes would flutter, and Robert was reminded of her coquettish playfulness during their courtship. He didn't dare believe that she sat flirting with him, and instead chose to chalk up her behavior to the excitement of the trip.

At the door to their train compartment Cora turned to him quickly, the brim of her hat nearly crashing him in the forehead. "I am so looking forward to our trip, Robert." Cora spoke quickly, as though if she didn't she might lose her nerve.

She was so good to him. Too good. He tried to manage a small smile but he was afraid it looked more like a grimace. "So am I, Cora." he managed weakly. "So am I."

* * *

The trip itself, first by train and then by boat, and train once again, was not overly long. But it was cramped and tiring. The result was, despite their private rooms, Robert and Cora felt rather trapped and never quite alone. The close quarters with the other passengers left them both reticent to try anything more than sleep, and even that was hard-won. Robert clung to the edge of the bed so that no part of him might touch Cora in the night, and he was always early to rise to take care of any embarrassing situation before she might wake. Travelling more like roommates than husband and wife, it had the very real consequence of exhausting them both. By the time they entered Paris by rail and caught a carriage cab, they were both desperate to sleep in a real bed, in a room that didn't move. They stayed silent, side by side, lost in their individual thoughts.

It had been a young girl's fantasy to plan a Honeymoon in the most romantic city in the world. During her tour Cora hadn't visited the fabled city of love, so it was an extra excitement to be there on her Honeymoon. However Robert's distance and distraction took a shine off the trip and, as they were driven through the streets of the city to their hotel, made it lonely as well.

Robert must have noticed her quiet demeanor for he opened his mouth to speak several times, finding nothing of import to say, and closing his lips again on a pained expression. Finally he began pointing out landmarks and describing them to her, as a way to break the heavy silence in the cab. Lacking the British restraint to appear unimpressed, Cora was quick to express her child-like wonder at the sights the city had to offer. America was, of course, amazing to behold. But the history and power in cities like Paris left her humbled. When she caught sight of the Eiffel Tower in her peripheral vision, she clapped with joy.

Once more, Robert was overcome with desire. She had that effect on him, which he found unfortunate. But this time, rather than reign in his impulse, he leaned in to steal a kiss. Cora turned more fully to face him, her eyes alight with surprise and anticipation. Their lips were mere breath apart when the cab bumped hard and they collided together, skulls cracking.

"OH," Cora breathed, cupping her palm against her forehead.

"Ow." Robert could almost hear the whine in his own voice. Once more, a moment of tenderness was waylaid by him causing his wife pain. Had Robert believed in omens, he might have given up then and there. Regardless, the tentative moment broken and he settled back in his seat, turning his attention back out the window of the cab, morose.

They didn't speak again the rest of the drive.

* * *

The hotel that was chosen for them was, unsurprisingly, elegant and richly decorated. Footmen in full livery, high ceilings, marble and oak graced the grand foyer. Tall green plants stood sentry along the columns lining the room and an enormous crystal chandelier commanded attention, glinting high above their heads.

"Viscount Downton," In impeccable english, a footman bowed and motioned for the two men with him to grab the luggage. "If you will follow me, I will show you to your room."

Roughly one third of the way to their suite, Robert faltered on the steps, coming to a rather abrupt halt. It was on the stunning realization that, like the train, the boat, and the train, once they were ensconced in their hotel room, there would be no escape for either of them. Unlike the train, they would be blissfully alone. Expectation would rise, desires would flare and... Without a dressing room bed made up, they would be forced to sleep side by side for their entire stay.

The entire situation was unavoidable. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying for the young man.

"Oh, Robert!" Cora stopped as abruptly as he, her hand resting on his forearm as he guided her up the stairs. "Are you well?"

His color rose and Cora's expression was even more alarmed as he tugged at the neck of his shirt.

"Just warm is all, my dear. Nothing to fret over." He tried to cover, but already he was feeling anxiety pressing in on him. Cora searched his face and then urged him forward with a hand on his arm. She did not look very convinced at all to his wellness but kept her counsel, at least until they were alone.

Just before the young bellman backed out of the room, Cora ordered for tea to be brought up along with a cool cloth for her husband. Then, once they were alone, she shepherded Robert towards one of the chaise lounges in the bedroom. The sight of the large king-sized bed, with the sumptuous brocade canopy above it, set Robert's mind whirling once more and color crept up his neck.

"I'm perfectly fine." He protested when Cora laid him back against the chaise. She reached behind his head to plump the pillow for him, giving him a tantalizing view of breasts, despite being covered by her travelling costume. Her perfume, the same she wore on their wedding night, drifted around them. He swallowed hard then closed his eyes.

He was being purposely tormented, he was sure of it, for being such a cad to marry a woman he had no love for.

A knock at the door came moments later and Cora exited the room, leaving Robert alone. He had no idea why he couldn't reign in his feelings, or why he was behaving like such a juvenile. After all, he was the Viscount Downton, soon to be the Earl of Grantham. He was a married man. There was no need for him to be acting like a boy at his first brothel.

And yet when Cora entered the room again, he could feel the cold sweat break out over his body. She was the absolute picture of youthful concern and innocence, and her palm on his chest to push him back to lay burned like a firebrand.

She set about to mopping at his head and cheeks, murmuring nonsense about the trip wearing him out. He nearly leapt out of the chair when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his temple to check for a fever.

Her nearness was his undoing, and as if of their own accord his hands wrapped around her waist. Her cry was not the least bit fearful, followed up as it was by a giggle as she fell forward onto Robert's chest. If she found his conflicting behavior at all strange, she showed no sign.

Even through the volumes of skirt and corset, the feel of her small body pressed to his was unimaginably wonderful. His palm curled around the back of her neck and dragged her to be level with him before his lips pressed to hers. She made a little sound of surprise but submitted almost immediately. Her hands, still clutching the cloth, let loose of the damp material and instead gripped Robert's shoulders as if anchoring herself from his onslaught. Her acquiescence was his undoing, and Robert leaned to sit up, pulling Cora into his lap fully.

He wanted her, God how he wanted her, and she appeared to be willing in his arms. When he brushed his tongue along her lips she only hesitated for the briefest second before opening her mouth to his and sighing. They were still learning how to do this, tilting their heads this way and that, but Cora was more than willing to follow his lead. She kept her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to set the pace, waiting for him to guide her.

Her faith in him was stunning, and humbling. When he made no move to do more than kiss her, she allowed her hands to wander to the buttons of his starched shirt, playing with them before sliding the first through its hole. She wasn't at all comfortable in the role of a temptress, but she forged ahead, despite Robert's lack of initiative to move things forward.

Thinking with her limited experience, she guided one of Robert's hands from her waist to her breast, surprised at the clench of pleasure the pressure brought when he slid his palm over the roundness and squeezed gently. Their tentative play was having an effect on Robert as well, and Cora shifted at the feel of his arousal against her bottom. Releasing her breast, Robert stilled her hips, which had begun to rock against him. He was sadly and dangerously close to the edge once more. Settling on a course of action that had the least likely outcome of embarrassing him, he stood abruptly and Cora slid from his lap. She looked momentarily worried until she realized he was guiding her to the bed. One look at the laces and ties on his wife's intricate travelling costume had him pausing, however. It seemed ridiculous for him to ring for her maid, who had ridden behind them in another cab, for this. And although there was no way she could be counted on to undress herself, Robert knew for certain his help would be more hindrance than aid.

"Robert?" Cora asked, turning and sitting, taking in his expression of complete bafflement. "Have I done something wrong?"

"We'll just have to improvise." Robert murmured and helped Cora to lie against the pillows. She watched him warily as he scooted beside her, a hand on her waist. He kept distance between them, his desire to make this more pleasurable for Cora outweighing his own wish to sate himself. A sort of penance for his shortcomings, for his inability to be the man she deserved.

He had one chance to redeem himself, and he latched onto it gratefully.

"I'm going to kiss you now," He leaned in close and swallowed her giggle-turned-moan with his kiss. He allowed his hands to pass over her waist to grab at the folds of her skirt. Careful to keep her lips lazily busy, he lifted the skirt high enough to slip his hand beneath. She stiffened as his hand made contact with her inner thigh, drawing up over the thin material of her knickers with exaggerated slowness. Her legs slipped further apart of their own volition as he teased higher and higher.

The heat increased as he neared the apex, and so did the speed of her breathing. He tugged at the tie holding her knickers up and tugged them out from under the edge of her corset. He smiled when she shifted her hips, allowing him to draw them down to her ankles. Once more he traced a lazy pattern up her legs, over her knees and to her moist center. He placed his palm there, simply pressing against her, and he could feel her heart hammering in her chest. A glance at her face showed her trepidation as well as high color in her cheeks. Slowly she rocked into his palm, wordlessly encouraging him. He slid his fingers rhythmically and slowly over her folds, allowing her time to acclimate to the feel of his hands on her so intimately.

Color raced up her arms and flooded her cheeks, leaving her face burning even as she shifted in his lap. The small pearls of her teeth bit into her lower lip as he slid a finger inside her, her entire body clenching at the invasion and the accompanying rush of pleasure.

He continued to move slow, paying special attention to the change in her breathing. Long, deep breaths gave way to sharp gasps, dissolved into urgent panting. Her fingers twisted together helplessly and he whispered endearments against her temple, pushing her towards pleasure even as she mewled frantically in his arms.

"I don't...I can't..." She tried to speak but each time her words trailed into a surprised gasp as he brushed the pads of his fingers over her pleasure center. He pinched and slid gently until her back was arching against him and her head thrashed against his shoulder.

"Yes you can." He said gruffly, his entire self on fire from the pleasure of watching her pleasure.

All at once she shattered in his arms, her cry of surprise zinging through him. Robert's arms held her gently as she regained her senses. He had to gulp when she shifted against him again. His trousers were tight across his groin and he needed release desperately.

"Oh, Robert." She gasped and stretched languorously, lifting her head to press her lips to his. In shy thanks, she laid her palm against his chest and her fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. Her whole body still shuddered in the wake of the surprising feeling he'd drawn forth, and she couldn't quite find the words to describe him. "That was..."

She was interrupted by the feel of him sliding away from her, leaving her to recline against the pillows alone. His expression was pained as he turned away quickly, although not before she saw the straining bulge in his trousers. He slipped out of the room without a word, closing the door to the bathroom and flipping the lock. Cora was so stunned she wasn't sure what to do at first, still winded from the experience. Hurt began to surface as the pleasurable feelings subsided and then, on a groan from the bathroom, worry.

She stood on unsteady legs and crossed the distance to the bathroom, pressing her ear to the door and listening intently. Robert let out another guttural moan and, concerned, she rapped her knuckles on the door.

"Robert?" There was no reply, except for more moaning. "Robert, are you ill?"

"I'm...fine..." Robert croaked in response, but he sounded anything but fine. He was panting, his voice strained and punctuated by sharp gasps.

And then silence.

Cora backed away from the door to bed, realizing only when she sat that she was still missing her knickers. She tried not to cry as she went in search of them, and mused on what she might have done wrong to displease her new husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm too lazy to try to do the math of how long it would take (in days) to get from London to Paris. So I glossed over it. Artistic License, she cried! Second of all - happy valentine's day? Um. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

The hotel bathroom was as sumptuously appointed as the rest of their rooms were. Robert, however, took in nothing as me moved to sit on the edge of the tub, his manhood so hard it was painful. It seemed easier to him to relieve the tension himself, rather than frighten Cora with his ardor.

Or, worse yet, fail to perform and leave her even more confused.

Her voice at the door startled him, even has he drew his hand quickly over his shaft, trying to get it done with quickly. That she thought him ill was a blessing, as it meant she didn't fully understand what was happening. He couldn't quite form words as he continued to bring himself to release, though she tried at least once more to speak to him. An image of her face, the scent of her perfume, the sense memory of her folds against his palm was all he needed to finish the job and he spent into his palm.

Relief flooded as tension drained from him and he set about cleaning himself up and making himself presentable. It would be time - quite soon - for them to lie together again. It would be time - quite soon - for him to move past his insecurities and self-loathing for the position he'd put them both in - and work to create an heir.

He exited the bathroom to the sight of Cora sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression melting into relief at the sight of him. Her innocence, and the fortitude required for her to enter into this most unholy contract, drew pain to his stomach. Her smile was sweet and shy and he thought perhaps it could wait just another bit more.

* * *

Robert hovered in the sitting room as he waited for Cora's maid to finish with her hair. He had been summarily dismissed by his wife and her cool-eyed maid not long after they were finally settled and unpacked in the room. And though he had urged them to move quickly so that they might make their reservation, it seemed both women were content to take their time.

The lull gave Robert time to think, something he had hoped to avoid at all costs. A few days before the wedding his mother approached him and entreated, again, that he rethink his decision to marry an American. She spoke plainly, some might have deemed it cruel, as she explained how Cora was simply not built for their life. She was too much energy and not enough substance. When the Countess' pleas fell on deaf ears she changed tactics and pointed out that it was terribly obvious that he desired the young woman.

Her parting shot had been that she believed her son above marrying for such base urges, and wasn't it possible a gentle soul like Cora Levinson deserved to be more than her husband's plaything?

Now his mother's words haunted Robert. He had everything he had sought; had played through like a master tactician. He had incredible wealth, neatly tied in an entail. He had a wife who behaved as though he hung the moon, who was articulate and gentle. He had free access to the body he spent months lusting over.

And he had a large helping of guilt and awkwardness for his troubles. He checked the clock once more, fidgeted in his seat, and poured himself another drink hoping the scotch would ease his tickling conscience.

When Cora did finally emerge, Robert could hardly summon the irritation to berate her. She stood shyly in the threshold, her entire self backlit by the flickering light from the bedroom behind her. The gold halo glimmered around her and she looked angelic, dressed as she was for their night out. Her alabaster shoulders were bare, the neck of her gown gathered on her right shoulder with a bunch of pale flowers. The bodice clung to her curves before flaring into a fuller skirt adorned with the same silk roses. She seemed to glow in the lamplight, the yards of satin shimmering gold. Her eyes were downcast as she waited for his acknowledgement and he became aware of standing with his mouth agape.

"You dress is missing something." Robert spoke rather lamely, and was rewarded with Cora's wince. A mere few days in the presence of his mother had already made his wife unusually sensitive to perceived criticism. Instead of attempting to explain Robert crossed the sitting room and produced a small box. He opened it with a flourish to reveal a string of lovely black pearls. Cora's eyes widened with glee and she immediately turned, indicating that he should put them on. Robert stepped closer and draped the necklace around her neck, and his fingers brushed her nape as he fumbled with the clasp. He felt her shudder beneath his hands and she tilted her head just slightly. Her eyelids fluttered and a blush stained her cheeks and down her neck. Without consciously realizing it Robert followed the trail of color to her decolletage.

"We should go," Robert attempted to speak, but the words came out a whisper. Cora responded with another tilt of her head and leaned forward. Her perfume filled Robert's senses. Her lips brushed his cheek chastely and he thought she whispered her thanks before pulling away.

* * *

If the intention of the honeymoon was to give the newlywed couple a chance to get to know one another without the stifling presence of family, up to that point it had failed. However by nightfall, with only one another for company in a city filled with life and lights, they began to find their footing.

The carriage ride to dinner had only been slightly awkward as Robert gave Cora some insight into the sights they were seeing. The scotch had indeed loosened him a bit, and he seemed nearly jovial as they rode through the cobbled streets to their destination. Cora described to Robert the city of New Orleans, and how it had the same feeling of freedom as Paris. She had only been once, and only for a few days, but she'd been captivated by the loose and easy accents, the smell of the ocean, and the bright life it seemed to contain.

"I wanted to travel when I was very young, because my father went so many places on business. He came home with stories of people and places I could only dream of." She explained, staring out the isinglass window. She started when Robert's fingers slid into her palm and didn't turn as she gripped his hand. "When mother suggested England, I was so excited. A new world, a new life. An adventure."

Robert stayed quiet, intent to watch the reflection of Paris in his wife's eyes.

"I know you don't love me, Robert." Cora continued, and Robert reeled as if struck but she kept his hand between hers. "At least not yet. But I don't regret this adventure.I don't regret my choices."

Robert thought of Downton, his legacy, his mother. His mind hobbled over the difficulties and tribulations ahead of Cora, the harsh realities she had yet to face. He thought of judgement and entails and the eventual bitterness of an aristocratic marriage. And he thought of his thoughtlessness in tying her to him and his encumbered life, this girl who looked at him with benevolent, shining eyes. He thought of the expectations of an heir, his family's disapproval, and his own failings in the bedroom. Of course she didn't regret her choices now.

But you will, he concluded sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of things - the black pearls were a nod to "The American Heiress" which was pretty much published Downton fanfic. ;) Second, I got bit at work today which makes this pretty much torture. So there is more but I cut this section short because the rest hasn't been read through at all or even vaguely edited (this section wasn't well edited either apologies). It also means until I can touch my keyboard without crying, the conclusion is on hold. I'm sorry. But I'm wounded!


	4. Chapter 4

The gaiety of the Paris nightlife was enough to drag even the dourest man out of his mood. Watching the city lights past, hearing the music and the laughter, managed to break through Robert's self-imposed doldrums. With Cora's pleased smile from earlier still in his thoughts, Robert made a concerted effort to make her evening pleasant. Feeling sorry for his poor choices was one thing, but weighing down Cora's ebullient mood was uncalled for. He would brood on his stupidity later, but he would attempt to make the evening enjoyable for the young woman.

Robert was pleased to note that Cora garnered much attention as they strode through the restaurant to their table. Many heads turned to take her in, and a small twinge of jealousy was replaced with a thrill of pride as Robert acknowledged the admiring glances. Cora's hand rested gently in the crook of his elbow and he felt a squeeze. He glanced sideways and was rewarded with her shy smile and a becoming flush in her cheeks. She, too, had noticed her admirers.

"You are truly lovely tonight, Cora." Robert murmured as helped her to sit. She pinked even more at the compliment before fingering the pearls around her throat. She grinned, fluttered her lashes, and shifted in her seat. And Robert felt himself falling head-first into her happiness.

Over the course of the evening they partook of the best champagne and after the first glass, Cora was giggling and blushing constantly. Boldly she brushed her fingers against Robert's as they both reached for bread and her expression was coy when she caught him looking.

She laughed at his aversion to escargot and he let loose a guffaw when she bit into her first one and her face screwed up in disgust. Throughout the meal the champagne flowed and the conversation, which to that point in their short married life had been proper and stilted, began to ease into a comfortable new rhythm.

The muscles, corded by anxiety and guilt, loosened in Robert's shoulders and the scowl between his brows smoothed. He was rewarded for his warm manner and silly stories with the genuine amusement of his companion. He was also rewarded by her wit, and her ability to converse, which kept him equally engaged.

The food was rich and decadent and Robert was amazed by how much his little wife could consume in one sitting. At one point it looked as though she might be abashed by her enthusiasm but, with a shrug, she dug back into the brulee in front of her. It was this zest and zeal that had drawn him to her, and he once again found himself charmed by her.

After dinner they decided they would walk a little bit, to help their rich meal go down. He guided her with a gentle hand on her elbow out the wide double doors and into the chilly night. It was late, nearing midnight, but the streets were still well-populated with couples and groups strolling and riding along. They turned onto the Av De New York; Robert noted it with some humor. The Seine was inky black before them, dotted as it was with the reflection of the Paris skyline in its ebony water. They meandered along the bank and Robert tried to remember what he could of French history from his time in University. Only 7 years ago the Tuileries Palace had been demolished, something that Robert was sorry for, but he remarked that they might visit the Gardens that week, as they were still a sight to behold.

"Tomorrow is Valentine's Day," Robert commented after he ran out of what little knowledge of the French he could recall. "What desires can I fulfill for you?"

Obviously the champagne, coupled with the scotch, had gone to Robert's head. He was grinning playfully and walking lopsidedly, his hip colliding often with that of Cora's.

"Oh, Robert." His name still sounded foreign on her lips, but in a wonderfully exotic way. He felt he would never tire of hearing her say it. "I think I have everything I could ever want."

Robert beamed. Had he been more sober, he would have realized her incredibly low expectations. But as it was, he was puffed up with pride that he was more than enough gift for his lovely new wife.

When he stumbled for the third time Cora suggested they find a carriage back to the hotel and Robert, remembering the gift tucked away in his things, quickly agreed.

Feeling bold in the ride back, Robert twined their fingers together. He laid their hands on her thigh and scooted closer. He was pleased when Cora did not back away. In fact, she scooted nearer him, her thumb rubbing circles over the back of Robert's hand. With a sigh she slumped sideways, tucking her head against Robert's shoulder. The large feather in her hair tickled at the top of his head but he didn't mind, because the sensation of her lithe body tucked against his was too distracting.

The ride to the hotel was as silent as the one they took earlier that day, but this was a comfortable silence filled with newfound warmth. Robert continued to glance down at their twined hands and couldn't help but grin. Each time Cora would sigh deeply and nestle further, the champagne working to make her sleepy, her heated breath would puff against his neck. Robert's arousal was a steady, slow burn and he longed to get to their room.

When they did finally make it upstairs, some of the stiffness had returned. Cora was languid but nervous and Robert was aroused and unnerved. It seemed the closer they got to their marriage bed, the more difficult things became between them. Once safely ensconced in their suite, Robert reached out tentatively to touch Cora's shoulder. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips.

"We don't have to...tonight." He said, and Cora's face clouded instantly. "I mean, you might still be tired from the long trip and the champagne and I don't want..."

Cora's gaze was a little unfocused and she absently stepped out of her slippers and kicked them aside. She tilted her head to the right and her impossibly blue eyes narrowed.

"Robert, I have to ask." She said, and though her manner was a bit slower, the forthright nature that had initially drawn Robert to her was terribly apparent. "Do I displease you?"

"I...no. No of course not." Robert fumbled. Quite the opposite, in fact, although he didn't say that.

"I suppose I don't know much about this part of marriage," She gestured behind her to the bedroom door. "But I had assumed there would be more..."

She finally blushed, her cheeks flaming to match her husband's ears as the boldness of her words finally hit her.

"I thought you would be more interested." She finished lamely, obviously regretting starting the conversation in the first place.

"Wait for me here." Robert said, and pushed past Cora into the bedroom. He could only imagine the blank look on her face, as he abandoned her in the sitting room quite suddenly. But rather than try to explain, poorly, how he felt, he figured it would be easier to simply show her.

Rummaging through his armoire he found the box Rosamund had fetched for him. He plucked at the bow to pull some of the creases out before returning to the sitting room.

Cora stood exactly where he left her, her shoulders straight and back and her eyes filled with tears she was refusing to shed.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Robert said, pushing the package into her hands. "I had this made for you. I would like you to wear it tonight."

Cora blinked and accepted the carefully wrapped package, running her fingers along the edge of the box. When she looked up, her countenance had transforme..

"You had this made for me?"

Robert nodded and the blush returned to his cheeks. "I would like...I would like to see you in it."

Cora nodded, looking pleased and rattled. "I'll call for Evans."

"I will wait out here."

Once more alone in the sitting room, Robert chose to abstain from more alcohol. There was a pleasant warmth in his belly, both from the champagne and the tantalizing thoughts of Cora in the nightgown he purchased for her. He hadn't realized his own nerves had, in Cora's mind, translated into lack of desire for her. He wasn't sure there was a delicate way to explain to her that it wasn't a lack of desire, but an overabundance that caused his reticence. He also knew that some women equated the act of making love with love itself, and Robert was loathe to make Cora believe he felt some emotion he didn't. It seemed unfair to start a future based on half-truths, certainly not when he felt a genuine affection for the young woman he was starting his life with.

There was so much more that was going to be difficult in Cora's life, even unpleasant, that he hoped they would be able to arrange something of an understanding on this trip. The alcohol, and the promise of what lay beyond the door, made Robert uncharacteristically optimistic about their chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My finger is back from the dead! For all those wondering, it was a schnauzer that bit me. I work in a pet supply/grooming shop and one of my groomers was out. So I was helping and scissoring a schnauzer foot when he decided he had had QUITE ENOUGH of those shenanigans. So he bit me. Several times. I passed out. And it ended up infected. So with some monster antibiotics and a self-imposed hiatus from doing anything with my hands, I have healed. And while this isn't ALL I wanted to post when I got "back", I figured some was better than none. :D
> 
> To all who commented on Robert's dumbness - I think they were both very young when they were married and, even then, I do believe Robert had an uncharacteristic and overdeveloped sense of responsibility for those around him. He enjoys saving people, protecting them, and Cora is someone he is charged with both using AND saving. His desire to protect her is warring with what he needs from her and that is making him very conflicted. Fortunately what he's realizing is that Cora isn't like the girls he's known before. She's stronger, more aware, and quite at peace with the choices she made. He is attracted to her strength but he doesn't understand it...yet.
> 
> In short: Girls confuse Robert. Especially girls like Cora. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Robert woke with a start when the bedroom door clicked shut. Evans crossed the sitting room to the suite door, but her gaze strayed to Robert where it fixed on him uneasily. Usually tractable, Robert was somewhat confused by the maid's steady disapproval but thought nothing more of it. Sleep was receding and anticipation was tingling through him. Just on the other side of the door sat his wife, in a gift of his choosing. Just the thought of her set his blood to a simmer.

He remembered, vividly, sitting with the seamstress and attempting to describe his desire to her without fumbling the words too much. He hemmed and flushed and all the while the business-like woman sketched before him, bringing his wishes to life.

Together they settled on a nightgown that was a single column of silk, a long and slender silhouette that would accentuate her small frame. Lace adorned the sleeves and followed a neckline that was not strictly modest. Robert longed to run his hands along her silk clad lines; waist, back, thighs. The color - he didn't know much about colors - but it was a blue he would sure would complement her eyes. The seamstress promised him it would be quite the original, and that it would suit his wife perfectly. Having never such a thing himself, he had to be content with her assurances.

When Robert had told Rosamund of his extravagance she seemed pleased and impressed by him. With delight she promised to pick up the gown for him and hand-deliver it to Downton the day before the wedding. As she handed it over her eyes had twinkled as she told him the seamstress was particularly pleased with her design, and that she knew Robert would love it too. When he imagined Cora in it, his pulse doubled.

Robert waited until the door clicked shut behind Evans and double-checked the lock behind him. He wished he'd thought to send a message with Evans that they weren't to be disturbed in the morning. Whatever the outcome of the night, he thought they would both need time to regroup without an audience. Cora wasn't a terribly early riser, but Evans was annoyingly prompt and considering the suspect way she'd stared at him, he felt she already knew what was going to happen. With a rueful shake of his head Robert crossed to the bedroom door. It was unwise to get ahead of oneself. Better to simply take the night as it passed.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the door and waited a beat before Cora's voice called out for him to come in.

Nerves struck him again, but they were mellowed by a pleasant evening, and the slow burn of anticipation. It occurred to him, dimly, that it was much easier far away from Downton. It was as though they had escaped the gravitational pull of expectation; he felt lighter and freer.

What coherent thoughts might have been in his mind exited as the door swung open and Cora stood before him. Her hair - was it really that long? - tumbled over her shoulders. The room was lit with flickering gas lamps and her skin was luminescent in the half light. He realized, belatedly, that he was staring and tugged at his bow tie before allowing his eyes to follow the curves of his creation.

As promised, the blue silk was perfect both for her skin tone and her eyes. The delicate lacing over the shoulders and across the chest was perfect, although it seemed to Robert that the neckline plunged far deeper than he remembered. He traced the line that nipped in at her waist, her silhouette just visible beneath the thin material and allowed his gaze to caress over her hips and...

It stopped. Just below the shadowy apex of her thighs. The material simply ended.

Robert thought about averting his gaze from the expanse of thigh revealed, dumbstruck by the notion that if she shifted just a little bit, he would see...

"What have you done?" It escaped his lips before he realized that he was speaking. Truth be told, his brain had shut down completely. "This isn't..."

"What have I done?" Cora did shift then, but her hands grabbed the hem of the nightgown and tugged it to cover herself more fully. It did very little good. "You ordered this. What have you done?"

"I didn't...this wasn't...the lace...and long." He was stuttering, floundering for words, unable to look away from the salacious vision before him. "The seamstress...and... _your breasts_."

He had the good sense to flush scarlet at his words, shifting from foot to foot before spinning on his heel to face the door behind him. He closed his eyes when he heard her shifting, knowing without question that he had failed once more. What started out as a wonderful night had fallen into a farcical kind of chaos that ended with him discussing his wife's breasts.

To her face.

It was all too mortifying to comprehend.

"Robert?" Cora asked, and he could hear the thick tears in her tone.

"I'm sorry, Cora." The words spilled out. "I don't know what happened. I shouldn't have said..."

"Robert." This time there was no question, and some of the heaviness had dissipated. He didn't dare turn around until the slip of material landed at his feet. He spun so quickly he nearly toppled over, aghast to see Cora standing in the middle of the room completely nude.

To his surprise, it wasn't tears that sparkled at the corners of her eyes, but mirth. Her hand covered her lips but it was obviously that she was smiling and what he'd taken for sobs were actually the hiccups of laughter.

"You should have seen your face."

Robert simply continued to stare as Cora stood before him, boldly nude and giggling. It occurred to him that she drank nearly as much as he had, and she was quite a bit smaller than he. She was obviously drunk.

"Yes, I'm drunk." Cora answered between giggles, one arm across her breasts and her other hand against her lips. "But your face."

"My face?" Robert felt like he was two steps behind, rooted to the spot even as Cora took a step backwards and dropped heavily onto the bed, her sides still shaking with mirth. "Your face."

"Don't lie, Robert. You weren't looking at my face. Still aren't, come to that."

He shifted his gaze slightly and their blue eyes met. Robert could feel a smile tugging at his lips in spite of the mortification he felt.

It took Cora several long moments to compose herself and when she did, there were tears on her cheeks. However, they were far different from the many tears he knew she shed in their short marriage. These were rimmed in joy and shed with laughter.

He was so confused. He knew he was possibly drunk as well, but he hadn't suspected he was quite this drunk. Nothing seemed to make sense. He ordered his wife a beautiful custom nightgown only for it to show up hacked to pieces. And when he accused his wife of doctoring the costume before oogling her naked body, her response was unbridled laughter.

It was too late for him to come to the conclusion that perhaps he wasn't cut out to be married, but that was neither here nor there.

Finally Cora collected herself enough to talk. "You were as surprised as I was."

"You didn't...with the nightgown?" Robert looked down at the slip of silk resting on his feet.

"God no." Cora slid backwards against the pillows and seemed to come aware, once more, of her state of undress. She pulled a sheet up over herself and Robert felt a twinge of disappointment. "I thought you did."

"I swear, this was not the gown I ordered." Robert still stood nervously, debating moving closer, when Cora leaned forward and patted the bed. He sidled over and perched at the foot. "I was very specific. I don't know how it could have happened. She seemed so very reputable."

Robert glanced down at his hands, lost in the mystery of the retailored nightgown. "Even Rosamund said when she picked it up that it was..."

It had to be the alcohol that had him coming to the realization so slowly, but once Robert ran through the sequence of events and recalled his sister's involvement, there was no longer any secret to be had.

"Rosamund."

"Your sister did this?" Cora asked skeptically. She didn't know Rosamund particularly well, so Robert could understand her hesitation. Women like Rosamund weren't supposed to be so...playful.

Vindictive.

Evil.

Troublesome.

"Rosamund did this." Robert confirmed. His sister and her pranks. Her worldly sense of humor. Her fascination with the grand guignol. "She's...absurd."

"I like her." Cora responded, shrugging her shoulders enough to have the sheet gaping. She tugged it back into place but caught Robert staring, again.

He looked away.

"Robert." She was saying his name a lot this night, but it was not plaintive or tentative. It was as though she was creating a touchstone, a reminder.

"Cora." Her name was easier to say than it had been, easier to place her face with the sound. In spite of everything, she was becoming familiar. The thought warmed him.

"I'm at something of a disadvantage." She indicated to her body. "I think it only fair that you level the playing field."

It wasn't the first time she'd caught him off-guard that evening. He suspected that it wouldn't be the last, either. He hoped it wouldn't, anyway.

"You want me to..." Robert trailed off, and he felt his eyes bulging.

"Take off your clothes." Cora stated matter-of-factly. "I can help if you like."

"No, I can manage." Robert sputtered then turned away. His fingers felt swollen and ungainly as he unknotted his tie and tugged at the buttons. He abandoned his tie in lieu of his cufflinks but soon abandoned those on a muttered curse. He returned to the front of his shirt, found difficulty in loosing even those buttons and looked heavenward. The recently forgotten feeling of facing a karmic retribution was resurfacing and he closed his eyes against his frustration.

And embarrassment.

He was suddenly and undeniably self-conscious about being fully nude in front of Cora. Her faith in him, to stand before him completely bare, spoke equally to her strength. He wasn't sure he was capable of baring himself to her, opening himself to whatever criticism she might have. He wasn't as active as many of his friends and Rosamund was often teasing him about the slight paunch at his middle. He was an aristocrat therefore pale, not like the swarthy cowboys one so often heard of in America. He was a rider so his thighs were toned but his arms weren't very well-defined.

"Are you sure you don't need my help?" This time Cora's voice was much closer, and Robert jumped as though scalded. "You seem to be having a bit of trouble."

Gentle pressure on his shoulders turned Robert to face her. She had tucked the sheet around herself in a makeshift toga, much to his relief. Her cheeks were stained with a pale flush and though her eyes were still hazy with drink, some of the sharpness had returned to them. Seeing her regarding him with such unabashed fondness helped to still the clamor in his head and he didn't exactly notice at first that her nimble fingers were making quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt. She turned her attention to his cufflinks, cradling his hand between hers briefly before working the clasps. When she reached for the waistband of his pants he stilled her.

"I can take it from here." He rasped. Carefully he stripped and set aside each layer of clothing until he had formed a small pile on the chair by the armoire. When he stood in nothing but his shorts, he looked back to where Cora had retired to the end of the bed.

Her chin rested in her hand and she watched him lazily, a soft smile ghosting her lips. When he reached for the waist of the last layer, she finally looked away.

"You're nervous." Robert said wondrously. Of course he knew she might be nervous, but he had been lulled by the liquid courage she had partaken in earlier that evening. It helped, he thought, to know that someone shared your feelings.

It helped, the thought repeated. "I'm nervous, too."

"Are you worried I'll disappoint you?" Cora asked, although her words were muffled by the her hand and the fact that she was turned almost completely away from him.

"No." Robert answered easily, truthfully. "I'm worried I'll disappoint you."

Cora's expression, when she turned to look at him, was shock personified. "How could you disappoint me?"

"How could you disappoint me?" He parroted back to her. Saying the words, he began to realize how silly they were. How silly they both were.

How little they knew one another.

How much he wanted to know her.

"How," he asked again, his voice lower and filled with an unnamed emotion. "How could you possibly disappoint me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, how mean am I to leave you there? SO MEAN. JE NE REGRETTE RIEN. ;)
> 
> But I introduce you to my second prompt, 'Robert buys Cora some nightwear only to have it "amended" by Rosamund'. I swear they're going to be less idiotic next chapter now that they're sufficiently sauced and naked and talking like grown-ups (kind of). Poor robert. My take is that he's basically a sexually inept goofball with a wife who is aristocratically socially inept. The blind leading the blind and all that. That's what makes them so functional. She gives him sex, he gives her class. Didn't Kate Hepburn say that about Ginger and Fred? Whatever.
> 
> It applies. Thanks for hanging with me on this and I hope to get this bad boy wrapped up before the next Big Damn Holiday Smut Exchange.


	6. Chapter 6

A myriad of emotions crossed Cora's face so quickly he could not identify them all. She settled on confusion, her brow furrowing in a way that Robert was coming to regard with bemusement.

"Because...you've hardly touched me." Cora finally explained, her expression now more concerned that he was somehow not particularly bright.

"I've hardly touched you because I'm terrified of disappointing you again."

"Again?"

"Our wedding night." Robert was watching her closely, for any signs that she might be attempting to deceive him.

Cora looked down at her hands, her hair obstructing Robert's view of her gaze. She seemed to weigh her thoughts before speaking. Her words came slowly.

"I thought it was nice." She said at length, and some pink had returned to her skin, painting her attractively rosy from hairline down her arms. "But I don't have anything to compare it to."

It was something he knew, of course. But having her spell it out for him so clearly was sobering. While Robert had limited experience, it was in fact, experience. He knew what to expect from the night, knew how his performance failed to live up. It hadn't occurred to him, at the time, that the entire evening would have been completely foreign to Cora. He never really knew what to assume mothers told their daughters, but if it was anything like what fathers told sons...there was little wonder.

"I thought it was nice, too." Robert took a few tentative steps in her direction and moved to sit beside her. "Albeit short."

"You're the one who left." Cora finally looked up to eye him critically and Robert was forced to laugh stiltedly.

"That's not exactly what I meant." He grinned at her before reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She caught his hand in hers and brought it down to rest in her lap.

"It's important that we can talk, isn't it?" Cora asked, looking down at his hand as she traced fingers along the lines of his palm. "If we're going to make this work."

Robert resisted the urge to ball his hand into a fist, the soft press of her fingertips tickling the soft skin and causing a warm flush to fill him. If she continued to touch him, there would be no talking at all.

"I like talking to you." Finally Cora's ministrations stilled and she slid her fingers through Robert's until their palms were clasped tightly together.

"I like talking to you, too." Robert was entranced by her, by the easy and yet shy way she touched him. The way she seemed to boldly speak her thoughts but make them seem so common sense. She disarmed him with her gentleness, then surprised him with her strength. It was a stunning realization to him, daily, that she was so much more than he bargained for. A thought that was tempered by the belief that he held the far better end of that particular bargain.

So Robert pulled away. Cora clutched at him briefly but let him go, disappointment sharp in the pucker of skin between her brows. He didn't move far and with a swift motion he pulled down his drawers and kicked them away.

He simply stood in the cool of the room shifting from one foot to another, resisting the urge to cover himself.

Cora looked over at him, blushed scarlet and looked away. Her gaze was only averted for a handful of seconds before she glanced again, her lips twisting into a little smile.

Robert continued to stand boldly before holding his hands out to his side and turning in a slow circle.

It would be years later that Robert would realize how much easier it was to bare one's body over one's soul. It would be Cora who would teach him to trust that things would be dealt with easier together.

That night, however, it felt as though he was most vulnerable. He was flooded with relief when he she patted the mattress beside her and he sat gratefully.

"We are very silly." Cora remarked, and she was absolutely right. They had become somewhat farcical in their mutual anxieties, and the fact that they both sat naked in the still-burning lights of the room staring tentatively at one another...

Robert didn't know who started it, but before long they were both giggling helplessly. The giggles gave way to full-bellied laughs and each time either of them tried to start speaking, they would dissolve again into hiccuping mirth.

It was as though all the anxiety and emotion had come swelling to the surface, to be released in a most unusual fashion. They laughed until their sides ached and tears pooled in the corners of their eyes. They laughed until their heads hurt and their lungs burned. They laughed until Cora collapsed against his chest, wheezing, clutching the sheet against her chest.

Her eyes were bright and her face was flushed to match, although not from embarrassment or fear. Her hair tumbled messily over both of them, tangling over her shoulders and across his chest.

"Oh my," she breathed against him then shifted even closer, drawing her legs up onto the bed. Robert could do nothing but put an arm around her shoulder to keep her from tipping, and her nearness gave him a bird's eye view down the front of the sheet.

Feeling bold after their laughter, Robert caught the gape in the sheet with his finger, tugging slightly and peering down. For a moment Cora resisted, pulling the sheet against her chest, but then her expression melted from concern into serenity and she let him pull the sheet down.

She allowed him a few seconds to stare at her unabashedly before lifting her hand to the nape of his neck. He could sense that she needed to touch him, to anchor herself. For all her bravado, she was still more girl than woman, and he could feel her tremble as he traced a finger over the contour of her breast.

He had much to atone for, Robert thought. Perhaps he didn't quite lie to her, but he had never been one hundred percent honest with her either. She accepted that, and had even feared that he didn't find her attractive.

So, with single minded determination, Robert set out to show her exactly how attractive he found her. He began by worshipping at her breasts. Exploring them slowly, without the barrier of material, was even more exciting than he'd realized. He was grateful to put his focus on his wife, as it gave him the opportunity to ignore his own mounting desire. When he leaned forward to press his lips to the dusky pink center Cora hissed out a breath and arched forward, her fingers tugging in the hair at his nape.

Their position on the edge of the bed was precarious so Robert urged her out of the sheet to lay against the pillows. She let him go reluctantly and laid back, one arm tossed up over her head. To Robert, she was wantonness and innocence combined and he couldn't help the slightest leer in his expression as he crawled up next to her.

"You are beautiful," He said, and he could tell by his expression it was not simply the usual platitude she heard in society. "You are perfect."

He allowed his hands to roam over the velvet skin of her belly, arms, torso. He paid more attention to her breasts, secure in the knowledge that they would probably be his favorite for a long time to come. His exploration was gentle and unhurried, seeking only to familiarize himself with her, to make her comfortable with his nearness. When he reached the apex between her thighs she lifted her hips into his hand, her body remembering the sharp joy he'd brought to her earlier that day. But he bypassed her there and continued to move slowly, torturously down her legs. He pressed and rubbed, warming her skin as he moved along, sometimes following the path of his hands with his lips.

His own arousal, a steady burning in his blood, was kept at bay by his single-minded concentration. Cora allowed him long unhurried minutes before her hands could no longer be still, and sought to return the favor. Her touch was more tentative, fingers nimble where she could reach. She stayed to the less sensitive areas, her hands merely roaming his shoulders and arms until he moved to lay beside her, his head propped on the pillow.

His smile was warm, honeyed and loose, and for the first time in their very short union he was content. Once more he brushed her hair from her face before leaning in slowly, ever so slowly, to press his lips to hers. His palm found the small of her back and drew her to him slowly, her arms reaching up to loop around his neck. With a mewl of pleasure in the back of her throat, her lips opened to his and her hands clasped at his cheeks, thumbs brushing over his stubbled chin. She tasted of champagne and garlic, but also some essence that was purely Cora.

Pulling away slightly, Robert smiled down into Cora's eyes before taking her hand and moving it to his hip. A silent request that she conduct her own inspection that she seemed to understand. A request he almost regretted when her small hand gripped his arousal gently. He watched her as she watched her own hand, shifting and rubbing, over the heated flesh. He could not contain a few moans of pleasure, of which she took note. She was a quick study and it wasn't long before he was forced to still her sliding fist, lest the night take yet another embarrassing turn.

Robert gently urged her onto her back and settled between her thighs.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered to her, and her smile was brilliant.

"You won't." She said, and he knew she was speaking of far more than this night. She drew him to her, languidly and warmly.

And so it began.

* * *

Many things make a marriage.

A promise, a contract, a ring, a church.

A vow, a honeymoon, the act of being together.

Having a child. Having disagreements. Making up.

They would spent the next thirty years doing it all, making it up as they went along.

Cora would confess that she had been in love with Robert from the first night they met. After all, she was wonderfully romantic even with her pragmatic heart.

Robert would confess that he wasn't in love when he married but it didn't take him very long at all to fall.

If he were to pinpoint a time at which he began to stumble it would be in the city of love, on Valentine's eve.

When Cora stood before him in that ridiculous nightgown engineered by his devious sister.

It would be when she laughed in his arms, and trusted him to love her.

Which, of course, he did.

Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously also in this section was something posted on tumblr lo a thousand years ago from imagineyourOTP seeing each other naked for the first time and being all nervous about it. CHECK. That part was planned from the very beginning.
> 
> Apologies for the fact that I kind of chickened out on the smut. But they got all schmoopy on me and all they wanted was candlelight and privacy. Who am I to deny them? I've abused them so this foray, especially robert and his fragile male ego. I figured he could do it right with less of an audience. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks and love to everyone who supported me along the way, with reviews and pokes and gentle reminders to get off my ass and do something. We are the bestest fandom ever and I'm proud to be a part of there you have it. Happy Valentine's Day, my coberts! Now maybe I get caught up on READING all the lovely stories that were posted! I just know they're all fabulous.


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